Page 39 of Ink Sworn (Greatdrakes #3 | The Fae Universe #24)

V alentine turned back to Midir, his smile becoming even more maniacal. "I did tell you I would open a portal to Ireland for you, and I always try to keep my promises."

Valentine sank into his magic like he had on the night he rescued Yelena and let his will guide his power. Threads of scarlet and black danced into an archway, time slowed, and the veil between worlds opened for him.

When time began again, the barrow kingdom of Brí Léith shook with the cacophony of war.

Midir was shouting to his warriors. Yelena was back in a human form, and Taranis and the knights were charging in behind her.

Valentine threw open the gateway he had created, making it larger and larger. A cold wind blew in, horns sounded, and Kian, shining in golden armor, rode through on horseback. Bayn and Killian rode beside him with Imogen and Arawan on giant hounds, leading a host of his warriors.

Valentine's blades were in his hands, and he cut and slashed his way towards his family. Midir was opening portals to let more of his warriors in. Yelena was focused on closing them as quickly as they opened.

A warrior jumped in front of Valentine, only to fall a second later with a double-bladed axe buried in his skull. Imogen pulled it free, spraying her black armor with blood.

"You could have given us a bit more warning, you dick," she said, stepping on the body and dropping down next to Valentine.

"You are an Ironwood. You are always ready for a fight," Valentine replied. "Did you get my other message about what I need?"

Imogen tossed her thick, lavender braid over her shoulder. "Of course I did, but expect Arawan to be pissy at you after."

"I'm sure you will find a way to make it up to him," he replied, picking up an enemy with his magic and tossing him out of the way. "I need to get to Yelena."

A strange roar sounded not far from them, and fear dumped down Valentine's spine. "What the fuck was that?"

"Daddy's looking for me," Imogen said, her eyes turning black as she threw her head back and bellowed an equally chilling call. "Try not to die, Greatdrakes." And then she was hacking her way back into the fight.

Valentine didn't have time to wonder at what the fuck that had been about when Bayn appeared beside them.

"Here, Val, you need something bigger," he said, pulling a sword from a sheath on his back and offering it to him.

Valentine slid one dagger back in his boot and accepted the sword. "Thanks, Bayn. Try to have fun."

"I have wanted to get at this fucker for centuries. Believe me, we are all having fun," Bayn shot back, his voice drowning out under the battle screams of fae fighting and dying.

Valentine couldn't see Yelena through the crush of clashing bodies, but he could feel her magic. He tugged on it, and the silver thread appeared, tied tightly to his chest.

I'm coming, baby girl . Valentine hacked and slashed with blades and magic, falling into a rhythm between breath and heartbeat.

The well of magic inside him pulsed, feeding him energy to keep going.

He had always been afraid of his limits, how far he could go before his magic was nothing but a whisper.

He wasn't afraid anymore. It was in that moment that he realized his magic wasn't a well, but a river flowing through him, never-ending and never still.

Valentine's laughter was joyous as magic pulsed out of him like a wave, knocking over the enemy in his way. Midir's sea of warriors parted, and he ran down the gap and to Yelena's side. She was kitted out in her fae armor, sword high, and he had never seen anything more feral and beautiful.

"Learned a new trick?" she asked, as the walls holding back Midir's warriors collapsed, and they all washed back together.

"You know me, my love, always curious to try something new," he said, grinning like a mad thing.

Yelena laughed and raised her sword higher into a fighting stance. "Shall we get to Midir and end this?"

"Why? You getting bored?" Valentine asked.

Wicked delight cut across Yelena's blood-stained face. "Someone promised to take me back to his tower afterward."

"You're right. Time to end this," Valentine said, scanning their surroundings. "Where did Midir weasel off to?"

"I can't see anything over this. I'm going to follow the magic," Yelena replied. "Keep them off me if it pulls me under."

"I have you, now and forever," Valentine said, pulling her in for a hard kiss and letting her go just as quickly.

The silvery mist of Yelena's magic rose about her, turning her eyes gray. A thrill swept through Valentine, making his heart sing. He would never tire of watching her use her magic.

Valentine didn't waste a second. Yelena began to move. He wrapped a protective shield of magic about her and followed her back into the chaos.

Midir was cornered behind a row of pillars, his warriors four deep in a protective circle around him. A portal was open on either side, letting in more warriors to replace the ones that fell.

Yelena's eyes cleared of mist. "We have to yank him out of there before he tries to create a portal to escape."

Valentine nodded. "He's been stubborn enough to think he can win and not abandon his kingdom, but it won't be for long." The idea struck him a moment later. "Your chains, my threads."

"Now is not sexy time, Val," Yelena chastised.

"No. It's how we get through them," Valentine replied with a laugh. He took her silver hand, and their magic sparked against each other. "Go for the legs."

They held out their clasped hands, and Yelena's silver chains whipped out of them. Black and scarlet threaded through them, and it shot through the clashing armies. There was so much magic battering either side that they fought to keep it undetected.

It hit Midir's warriors, the black and scarlet threads heated with dragon fire and lashed out from the sides of the chain, slicing through limbs and downing the enemy in its way.

It struck Midir at the knees, fast as a serpent, and wound around him, tightening before he could fight back with a counter spell.

"Up and out!" Valentine shouted, and they pulled on the chain. Midir was yanked high in the air, over the clashing seas of the battle, and toward their ranks.

Battle horns sounded, signaling a defeat. They had their king. It was over.